


Central City Standoff

by Swashbuckler



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Embarrassment, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Nobody is Dead, Secrets, Slapstick, The Rogues (DCU) As Family, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 10:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11439258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swashbuckler/pseuds/Swashbuckler
Summary: When embarrassing secrets start getting shared, there's one rule amongst the Rogues that stands above all others:“If I’m going down I’m taking everybody with me.”





	Central City Standoff

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been reposted here from my old account!
> 
> This fic was inspired by the Friends episode "The One With Phoebe's Husband" where they all start ratting out each other's secrets; I could see the Rogues doing the same.

“Look, I’m just saying I don’t react to things that emotionally,” Piper shrugged, pouring himself coffee.

“Liar,” challenged Mark as he got up. “What about how you get over music, the one true love of your life? What about baseball? What about your _rats_?" He looked around at the other Rogues sat at the breakfast bar waiting for them to agree. They nodded vaguely, more interested in eating. 

“What about them?” asked Hartley, pointedly not looking at Mark as he perched on one of the stools. 

Mark rolled his eyes. “You can’t claim not to get emotional over the things you’re passionate about - especially after when Dynamo died you were so depressed you stayed in your pyjamas for a week. _And_ I saw you get a Starbucks.” There was a collective gasp from the Rogues as all faces turned to stare at a scarlet Hartley. “Well,” Mark pressed with a smug smile, “didn’t you?” 

Piper stared at the mug in his hand in shame. “I might’ve,” he said meekly. 

“After all your capitalism rants,” muttered Len, eyebrows raised, “you shopped at Starbucks?” 

“Frater’ising wi’ ‘e en’my,” James agreed through a mouthful of Fruit Loops. 

“It was a moment of weakness,” Hartley said guility as he stared at his black, safely noncommercialised coffee in hand. “None of you are any better! You all have secrets.”

“Oh yeah?” Mark snorted. “I don’t have secrets. I have nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“I’m sure you’re right, Mark,” Hartley sighed, stirring his coffee, “after all, crying over your rat dying is far more embarrassing than not having a date in a year, isn’t that right?” 

Mark stared at Hartley in pure horror as the musician raised his mug to him in a little toast as the rest of the Rogues burst out laughing. “What?! Wait a minute, who told you?!” Mark stopped, slowly turning on the spot and looking at James perched on the breakfast bar, looking very deliberately at the ceiling. The Trickster tentatively caught his eye and gave the Weather Wizard his biggest, most innocent smile as he loudly swallowed his mouthful of cereal.

“You,” Mark growled, “are dead meat.”

“I didn’t know it was a big secret,” wheedled James, reaching out and patting Mark’s stubbly cheek, trying to poke the corner of his mouth into a smile. He quickly pulled his hand away when Mark looked ready to bite him.

“Oh, it’s not big, not at all,” Mark said breezily, stepping back and raising his hands, “you know, kind of along the same lines as not being a natural blonde!” 

“You’re not a natural blonde?!”

James fell off the breakfast bar as the Rogues rounded on him, touching his hair defensively. “You backstabbing-!”

“Traitor, I trusted you!” pouted Lisa, stroking her own blonde hair. “We were the dream team, James!”

“If you’re not naturally blonde, then what are you?” asked Roscoe curiously, peering down at the top of James’ head. The Trickster quickly covered his roots with both hands and scrambled to his feet, turning on his heel with a flourish to face Mark on the other side of the table.

“Alright,” James bounced on his toes, clicking his neck from side to side and rolling his shoulders, “so that’s how you wanna play this, huh?” He pushed his sleeves up and pointed at Mark accusingly, his stance like that of a boxer ready to strike. “Mark fancied Blacksmith.” With a yelp the Trickster vaulted over the back of the sofa as the Weather Wizard lunged for him.

“Is that why you were so quick to be the lackey of that power-hungry witch?” Len said in disgust. 

“Oh, like you wouldn’t have,” Mark snapped hotly. 

“I didn’t,” sneered Len pointedly, “remember? I rescued you and the brat from being in her miserable crew.” 

“Oo, Casanova’s been knocked off ‘is high horse,” cackled Digger.

Mark’s jaw tensed as he glared at Digger and straightened up, raising his head defiantly, winking at Len. “Digger claimed Lisa was Owen’s mom to the whole- ****- world.” 

“WHAT?” 

“Low blow, man,” James winced, shaking his head.

“If I’m going down,” Mark hissed as Digger dove for cover, “I’m taking everybody with me.” Lisa had thrown herself after the Captain, a furious Roscoe and Len not far behind her. 

“It should be flatterin', Lis!” the Australian called over his shoulder as he darted around an armchair and ducked just in time to miss Lisa's nails swiping through the air where his face had been moments before. 

“Flattering? From _you_?” screeched Lisa furiously. 

“Oi!” Digger cried indignantly. Baring his teeth, he shouted, “Roscoe does ballet and Lisa wears Flash-themed underwear!” 

“Lisa,” Al said softly in disbelief. 

Len stopped trying to grab Digger and threw his head back in a loud bark of laughter as he pointed at Roscoe, his face glowing. “You- you do ballet?” he cackled. 

“It helps me focus my spinning skills,” snarled Roscoe. 

“Please say you wear a frilly tutu!” 

“I’d like to remind you that ballerinas can kill you with their toes, _Leonard.”_

Albert blinked tired eyes at Lisa; he’d been content to forcibly ignore the ruckus that had invaded the living room around him up until now when his attention had finally been pulled from his book out of pure shock. “But you... hate the Flash...?” 

“I don’t hate the Flash,” hissed Lisa as she stood frozen, glaring at a triumphant Digger, “I hate your best buddy Barry Allen. And I don’t own anything like-!”

“Yeah ya do,” sniggered Axel, sprawled across the sofa, his gum squelching between his teeth as he wiggled his eyebrows at his gameboy. “Panty raid proved it, yo.”

“Mark the date, ladies and gents,” James announced, “today is the day Axel Walker _dies_.” 

“Axel still sucks his thumb!” Lisa screamed furiously, high and cutting so everyone could hear her just as Roscoe roared “Len bawled like a baby at Wally and Linda’s wedding and there’s photographic evidence to prove it!” 

“No!” shouted Len. “That was allergies! Hayfever!”

“Allergies to genuine human emotion, maybe.”

“Oh, like you can talk, you-!” 

While Roscoe and Len went for each other’s throats, Axel bolted upright, all his laddish bravado gone as he shook his head. “No I don’t! She’s lying!” he protested in panic. 

“Aww, and you complain that we don’t let you drink!” Mark pouted, pinching Axel’s cheek as James collapsed to the floor, clutching his stomach as he howled with laughter. 

“S-someone hold him down and I’ll- and I’ll go get my dress up trunk!” James said breathlessly, tears of pure joy rolling down his cheeks. “We’ll make him a proper Rogue baby!”

“No freakin’ way, man!” Axel yelled. 

“Get him!” Lisa shouted and Axel fled. 

Piper was still sat at the breakfast bar, stirring his coffee. Al slid into the seat beside him having escaped the danger zone of the living room and set his book down in front of him. 

“You started all this,” Al commented idly as he watched Mark, Digger and Lisa chase Axel around while Len and Roscoe’s fight dissolved into hair pulling and biting. 

“Mmmhmm,” Piper hummed, tapping his spoon against the edge of his mug. 

Al shook his head slowly and opened his book. “I’m so glad you reformed.” 

“Mmm,” Piper’s lips quirked into a tiny, sly smile as he raised his mug to his lips. “You should be.”

**Author's Note:**

> _This was so much fun to write._


End file.
